


Ride of the Hoverchair Brigade!

by der_tanzer



Series: Puppy Love [6]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-19
Updated: 2010-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:10:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Admiral Pike returns to the <i>Enterprise</i> and finds that it's even more fun when he's not in charge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ride of the Hoverchair Brigade!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oddmonster](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=oddmonster).



> If you've read the rest of the series, you know that Scotty and Chekov are a couple, but since there's no specific mention of it here, I felt that I could pass it off as gen. Otherwise people would be looking for the slash and coming up empty.
> 
> A birthday gift for the marvelous Oddmonster, my partner in Trek, who has made the fandom, and the last year in general, so much more fun than I'd planned. For our dreams, Oddiwankenobi, and a better future for us all.  
> 

It was a great occasion on the _Enterprise_ when Admiral Pike came aboard for the first time since giving up command. He was going to Zartron-8 to speak to that planet's incoming Academy class, and when he heard that the _Enterprise_ was in Earth orbit, he specifically requested it for the trip. The bridge crew was on hand in the transporter room to welcome him back, and when he appeared on the pad, a frail looking grey-haired man in a wheelchair, accompanied by a pretty Orion nurse, they broke into spontaneous applause. Kirk moved forward at once to assist him, but the admiral held up his hand.

"As you were, Captain," he grinned, and his voice, calm and sardonic, hadn't changed at all. Kirk paused and Pike pressed a button on the control pad of his chair. Solid light propulsion lifted it off the transporter pad with a soft _whoosh_ and he floated forward with a touch of the stick. The drop down from the pad to floor level seemed to jar him a little and the nurse steadied his head with one hand.

"Admiral Pike," Kirk said, stepping closer and extending his hand. "We're so pleased to have you aboard. If there's anything you need, anything we can do to make your trip more comfortable, I hope you'll let me know personally."

"And now that you've gotten the formalities out of the way…" Pike said, shaking his hand. Kirk bent and hugged him loosely around the shoulders, embarrassed by his emotion but unable to deny it. Not after everything he'd gone through a year ago to save the life of this man who had been his captain for a day. When he straightened up, he saw his crew smiling, some laughing and others wiping their eyes, but all of them feeling what he felt, no matter how they expressed it. Kirk stepped back and let the others greet their former leader.

"Mr. Spock. I never thought I'd see the day when you were serving under Kirk."

"The captain notwithstanding, the opportunity to serve as first officer of the Federation flagship was too great to pass up," he said dryly, only his raised eyebrow giving a hint of the joke.

"A wise choice, Mr. Spock. And Mr. Sulu," he continued, turning to the next in line. "You've become a fine pilot, haven't you? Every week I see requests for your transfer from captains who want you on their bridge."

"I'm more flattered that the requests haven't been granted," Hikaru said shyly. No matter what he accomplished in the line of duty, he was still embarrassed about his mistake with the external inertial dampener the first time out of space dock, and seeing Pike would always remind him of it.

"We won't let them break up the best damn crew in Starfleet. At least not until you all finish growing up. Speaking of which, where's my Russian whiz kid?"

Chekov came forward slowly and took the admiral's hand, first shaking it and then holding on when Pike didn't let go.

"How are you doing, Chekov, Pavel Andreievich? Old enough to shave yet?"

"Twice a week, sir. And may I say how pleased I am that you remember me at all?"

"Who could forget you? The Academy hasn't graduated another cadet anywhere near your age or IQ, and I don't think it ever will." He released the slender hand and Chekov moved away so Uhura could take his place.

"Lieutenant Uhura. We haven't seen anyone with _your_ skills either. I heard about that mission you saved a month ago. They say there's not another xenolinguist in all of Starfleet who could recognize a Romulan speaking Vulcan just by his accent."

"Thank you, sir. I'm glad _someone_ appreciates my efforts," she said, shooting a sideways glance at Kirk.

"I never said I didn't appreciate it," he protested. "I just said it was good that you had the brains to go with that—well, never mind."

"Yes, never mind," Pike said sternly. "Lieutenant, you have my permission to kick him in the shins any time he says anything like—whatever he almost said there. It'll set a good example for the crew."

"Thank you, sir. I will."

McCoy was next and had to have a brief conference with Pike and his nurse, as it was difficult for him to talk to anyone outside the terms of medicine. He would be the admiral's personal physician on this trip, and the nurse, whose name was Nyah, gave him a data chip containing Pike's medical records for the past five years, just in case he couldn't get it all from the ship's computers.

Scotty, who was the last to join the crew and had never technically served under Pike's command, was the last to speak to him. But Pike gave him an honest, if tired, smile and shook his hand.

"Mr. Scott. I sure am glad to see you taking care the old girl. I sleep easier at night knowing the finest engineer in Starfleet is looking after my ship."

"'Tis an honor and a privilege, sir. There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

"Not just compared to Delta Vega?" he teased and Scotty laughed.

"No, sir. I've been on a few ships, and this one here, she's top o' the line."

"That she is. Well now, Captain. How about giving me a tour of the bridge?"

"Isn't it time for your nap?" Nyah whispered, too softly for anyone else to hear.

"That can wait ten minutes. I'm in space again and I mean to enjoy it."

"All right, the bridge it is," Kirk said happily. "Let's all get back to our stations, folks. It's still a work day."

Pike made a small adjustment on his control panel and the chair rose higher, bringing his eyes up to shoulder level, making him close to his standing height. He followed Kirk at a brisk walking pace, Nyah right behind him and rest of the crew behind her. The three of them took the first turbo lift, leaving the others to catch the next.

When they were all gathered on the bridge, Pike made the move down to the lowest level by the helm console. Again his hoverchair jarred on the step, but this time Nyah couldn't reach his head to steady him and it banged against the padded headrest. He closed his eyes in frustrated acceptance, then spun to look at the viewscreen. Kirk was talking and everyone was taking their stations, but even as Chekov sat down at the console, he was thinking about that jarring plunge.

Pike dropped his altitude a little when the crew sat, putting himself at eye level. Chekov noted a slight hesitancy in that as well, and as soon as Kirk paused to say something to Spock, he turned to the admiral.

"Sir, if I may say, you are having a problem wit' your propulsion array, no?"

"Yeah, something like that," Pike said, surprised. "How did you know?"

"Is obvious from the way you drop on the stairs. And you should also be able to reach eye level. Is not strong enough for the proper altitude, yes?"

"That's right. I've had a couple of engineers look at it, trying to get it fixed before I made this trip, but they didn't have any luck. God knows why. Seems to me like if they can build the damn things, they ought to be able to repair them."

"One would think," Chekov mused, already mulling over possible tests and diagnoses. "Sir, if you are not busy this ewening, I think Mr. Scott and I could help. If it is not too forward of me to suggest."

"Kid, there isn't anyone I'd rather have. We'll get together after dinner, just name the place."

"Perhaps Mr. Scott's quarters. He has a lot of tools, and it is more private than anywhere in engineering."

"Good enough." He gave Chekov a confident smile and then Kirk was speaking to him again. The crew resumed their business, and Pike left after a few minutes, at Nyah's insistence. It was past time for his nap.

***

"He's not a well man," McCoy said quietly. "Brain tissue is the one thing we still can't regenerate or replace, and that's what he needs."

"Still seems to have his wits about him, though," Kirk said a grin.

"Oh yes. That part of his brain is still sharp as a tack. It's a real shame he didn't feel up to continuing in a command capacity," he added with an ironic eyebrow twitch. "But he'll never walk again and his involuntary functions are impaired. Breathing, blinking—everything but heartbeat is controlled through conscious effort or by computer. As long as he's in that chair, it uses electric impulses to control involuntary muscles. If he's out of it, he either has to concentrate constantly, or use a portable computer. The nurse, Nyah, says he's hooked up all the time. At night, she wakes up every ten minutes to check on him."

"Ten minutes, huh? Seems like Starfleet could afford to give him two nurses."

"He has more at home." McCoy took a drink from his coffee cup and leaned a little farther over the table. "I'm just telling you this because you're the captain. He might be an admiral, but this is your ship and you're responsible for him so long as he's on board. You do _not_ want him dying on your watch."

"I don't want him dying at all. So what do I do? Offer to sit up with them at night?"

"No, that's my job. Just don't go expecting him to join you in your all night poker games and drinking contests. We're just supposed to get him to Zartron-8 in one piece."

"That's all I want to do," Kirk said lightly. But his eyes were worried and that made the doctor feel better. As if he was paying attention. "So why aren't you with him now?"

"I was going to meet him here, but he hasn't showed up."

Kirk looked around the dining hall and saw that he was right. The admiral wasn't there.

"Must be eating in his quarters. It's been a long day. Maybe he needed the rest. Better check up when you're done here."

McCoy gave him a look that suggested Kirk was quite possibly the stupidest man on the _Enterprise_, if not in all of Starfleet.

"Right. Good thing you reminded me or I probably would have forgotten all about him."

"That's what I'm here for, Bones."

***

Pike had eaten in his cabin, but that was an hour ago. Now he was lying on Scotty's bed while Nyah applied his portable computer electrodes to the back of his neck so he would be safe and comfortable while Chekov and Scotty worked on his chair. Chekov had sent Scotty a message from the bridge, letting him know about the appointment and his thoughts on the project, and by the time they all got together, Scotty had a pretty good idea of what to do.

"I think ye've just got a couple of wires crossed here, Admiral," he said cheerfully. Scotty was on his back under the chair, which was up on blocks, following instructions that Chekov read off a PADD. "Whoever was under here last plugged the light wave actuator into the array without going through the electronic distributer first."

"What does that mean?" Pike asked curiously.

"Means it's getting power surges. Tha's why it's such a rough ride. But do na' worry. We should have this fixed up in a jiffy."

"May I ask a question, Admiral?"

"Only if you stop being so formal. We're all off duty, Pavel, and I'm not your commander. You can call me Christopher."

"Thank you, sir. _Christopher._ Sorry."

"It's all right. What's on your mind?"

"This is a wonderful machine, yes?"

"I think so."

"But is not good enough for you to retain command? What I mean is, you are so mobile, and when it is fixed, it will be quicker and more agile than many of us. Why could you not keep ze ship?" He was blushing hard by the time he finished speaking, sure he'd overstepped and would be rebuked, and Scotty's sudden stillness said he expected the same. But Pike only smiled and took a deep breath.

"Maybe I could have. Part of me sure wanted to, Pavel. But I was already getting old, and I have a wife and kids back home on Earth who weren't going to put up with much more. The doctors recommended I resign my command, partly because having a captain hooked to a computer might not inspire a lot of confidence among the crew, and partly because my heart can't take a lot of stress. But I went along with it for my wife. She wanted someone to get old with."

"That is wery sweet. So you think that if it were, say, Captain Kirk in your situation, he could retain command if he chose?"

"Sure, probably. The technology isn't good enough to repair my body, but I could still have done my job. Just happens that I like teaching and going home to my family at night. Anyway, I'd always meant to give Kirk my ship, from the minute I made him first officer under Spock. I just didn't figure he'd get it until Spock moved up."

Pavel nodded thoughtfully and only then did Pike ask why he wanted to know.

"Is the twenty-third century," he said with a shrug. "People should not lose their jobs due to disability anymore. We should be beyond that by now. Do you not think?"

"Yeah, kid, I think. But at least it's a case-by-case matter. It was my choice. And I hope that in my place, you'd make a different one. You're young and there'll always be a place for a mind like yours on board the _Enterprise_, or any other ship that's lucky enough to have you."

Chekov blushed and ducked his head, pretending to read something on his PADD.

"Aye, he's right, Pasha. Not like me. There's no place in engineering for a man who can na' climb."

"That's not necessarily so," Pike said. "The last time I was in physical therapy, I saw a backpack propulsion system that could get you anywhere you wanted to go in no time at all. And it's compact enough to fit in a Jefferies tube, if you can manage to go slow enough. I'm betting you could, Scotty."

"Is tha' right, sir? I'd love to have a look at it sometime, even if I never need it for m'self."

"What about you, sir?" Pavel asked shyly. "Could you not use something like that?"

"I might try it when I get back, if they've got the bugs out. But I have a lot of neurological pain that they haven't quite found a cure for yet and sitting down suits me better." He spoke matter-of-factly, not asking for sympathy and making it clear he didn't want any.

"You want another injection, Boss?" Nyah asked, smoothing his hair back and checking his eyes.

"Not yet, Ny. Give me a C-5 pulse, would you?"

She pressed a button on the computer wired to his neck and he flinched, his body going stiff for a split second. A mild electrical current went through his fifth cervical vertebra and the muscle spasm in his back quieted down at once.

Pavel admired how they worked together, the two of them caring for Pike's body as a team, the way he and Scotty cared for their ship. He had heard that Orion women had once been kept and sold as slaves for men's, and women's, pleasure—that they were called animals and treated worse—but it was hard for him to understand why. His friend Gaila was smart and lively, a strong fighter and a brilliant scientist, and this Nyah was obviously a well-trained and highly trusted nurse. While he watched, she ran a tricorder over Pike's chest and adjusted a setting on his life support computer.

"Is he all right?" Pavel asked timidly and it was Pike who answered.

"You can talk to me, Pavel Andreievich. I can still hear."

"Sorry, sir. You are all right, then?"

"Just peachy. I take a lot of fine tuning, but that doesn't mean anything. If Nyah wasn't here I could do it myself, but I prefer to let her earn her pay."

"Mr. Boss Man is so generous, don't you think?" Nyah laughed.

"I do not know about that," Chekov said, "but he is good boss. I only served under him for a day, but I could tell."

"Lucky you. I went through Starfleet Academy and spent three years as head nurse on the _USS Destiny_, and now I'm grounded so I can be his personal servant."

"Oh, you applied for the job, Ny. Hell, you _begged_ for it. And you know you'll miss me when you rotate out next year. They'll put you on a busy starship with a dozen patients a day, and that's when you're not going into battle, and you'll wish you were back on Earth pushing my buttons."

"If that turns out to be true, I'll just beg and you'll take me back."

"Probably."

"They rotate, do they?" Scotty asked, sliding out from under the chair.

"Starfleet doesn't want any one person getting too attached. And everyone needs experience in space, as well as practice putting up with cranky old admirals," Nyah explained.

"Lucky you," Scotty grinned. "Pasha, you want to give me a hand here?" He got up and together they lifted the chair down from its supports. It would have been easier to power it up and use the propulsion system to lift it off the jacks, but Scotty knew instinctively that it wouldn't be appropriate. It wasn't so much like a mechanic test driving a car as it was a tailor trying on a customer's newly hemmed pants. Only the man who lived in this machine could dictate when it ran.

"Do ye want to try it out, sir?"

"You won't call me Christopher, will you?"

"Probably not so long as we're sober," he grinned. "Care for a drink?"

"What do you say, Nyah? Can I have one, or will you tell Barb on me?"

"Keep it to one, Boss."

"What'll it be, then? A good aged Scotch, or some o' that repulsive potato liquor tha' wee Pasha is so set on?"

"Are you going to let him talk about your mother beverage that way, Pavel?"

"Monty is a good man and I love him, but he is only a Scotsman so he has no taste in liquor. Is not his fault, you know."

"Ah. Well, it's a tough choice, but I have to go with the man who's holding my life in his hands."

"And which one of us is that? Monty did the work, but it was my idea."

"Better give me both, then. Nyah, what'll it take to buy your silence?"

"A shot of vodka and a glazed doughnut," she said promptly. "Same as always."

"So it is the nurse who has the good taste after all," Pavel said, going to the cupboard where Scotty kept their small supply. He poured shots for Nyah and himself, and half of one for Pike. Scotty poured his own drink and got Nyah's doughnut from the replicator. She settled close by Pike's side, providing a knee for him to put his glass on, and watched his vitals on the monitor while she ate her doughnut. Chekov sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed and Scotty pulled up a chair beside it, equidistant between Pike's head and Pavel's.

"Well, for vodka, this isn't bad," Pike said, draining his glass and handing it to Nyah. She drank hers and went to get his half-shot of Scotch so Scotty wouldn't feel he was playing favorites. He tasted it and smiled.

"I was right, was I not? Much better than that potato trash."

"Not bad," was all he said, so he wouldn't hurt Pavel's feelings. He drank it slowly, feeling it go right to his head and knowing that Nyah could see it on the monitor. When he was done, she took the glass and put it aside, then ran the tricorder over him again while the conversation continued unabated.

"I put you both up for promotion, you know. I'm sorry it didn't go through."

"You did?" Pavel asked, blushing with pleased surprise.

"Sure. You two were really the ones who saved our butts. Pavel, you figured out how to catch up to Nero's ship, and Scotty, you managed to beam us off before the Romulans finished turning my brain to soup."

"But that was na' good enough for Starfleet?" Scotty asked with a grin.

"Oh, they had their reasons. Admiral Archer has seniority and he's still a little bit pissed about his beagle. Although officially it's because you left Delta Vega without orders from your commander. And as for you, Pavel Andreievich, they figure you're going to rise through the ranks at about warp seven anyway, and no one wants to risk having to give you your own ship before you're twenty."

"I am sure that would not happen," he said shyly. Only Scotty really lavished praise on Chekov now—everyone else seemed to take his abilities for granted—and it was nice to feel the approval of the man who had once commanded him.

"Let's hope not. We want you to be at least twenty-one."

"Now, Admiral, don' go filling the lad's head with all that stuff and nonsense. He's one or two things left to learn, surely."

"Don't worry, Scotty. I won't let them transfer him anywhere you can't go," he said with a wink. "Now let's try out your work there before I fall asleep. Go ahead, bring it over."

Scotty turned on the chair and guided it nearer to the bed, putting it in the same position Pike had so they could lift him out. She disconnected his portable computer and he concentrated on breathing while she helped him slide across the bed. He still had some motor control, even after the Scotch and vodka, and Nyah had no trouble getting him to the edge and sitting him upright.

"Don't forget to blink, Boss," she said lightly and he did, rapidly, two or three times, then forgot and just went back to breathing. Nyah crouched, braced her shoulder just below his sternum, and stood and pivoted him into the chair. In two quick movements he was sitting upright, solid and dignified, but not breathing. "Hey, Boss, take a breath," she said calmly as she attached the onboard computer to the base of his skull and fastened his restraints. Suddenly he was breathing normally, blinking every five seconds, smiling a slightly looped smile.

"Okay, let's kick the tires and light the fires," he said, tapping out instructions on his panel.

"Course laid in, sir?" Pavel asked.

"Laid in. Let's go find me some stairs, boys. And girl." He spun the chair around, elevated smoothly to eye level and zipped toward the door. It slid open a split second before he would have crashed into it, leaving the others to wonder if it was good luck or unbelievable skill. They ran to catch up with him in the corridor, but he spun around abruptly and chased after them, dropping altitude and tilting slightly forward so he struck Pavel in the back of the knees and scooped him up off the floor. Pavel reached instinctively to wrap an arm around his neck, but shifted at the last second and grabbed the back of the chair instead so he didn't dislodge the wires. Pike slowed, tilted the seat back twelve degrees to balance him, and started to pick up speed again. But he wasn't quick enough to evade Nyah, who grabbed the handles on the back of the chair and hopped up, planting her feet on the castors of the anti-tip wheels. She never had quite understood why the hoverchair had old fashioned wheels, but regardless of the reason, they were convenient to stand on as he chased Scotty down the corridor, all of them laughing with the wind in their hair.

"Do not run him down," Pavel gasped, clinging desperately to the speeding hoverchair, slightly in awe of the not-so-frail-after-all man who held him.

Scotty ducked around a corner and flattened himself against the wall. He saw Kirk and McCoy coming toward him, deep in conversation and paying no attention, and would have warned them if he'd been able to catch his breath. Then Pike whipped around the corner, listing badly to port, Pavel and Nyah just barely hanging on, and knocked the doctor ass over teakettle.

If solid light propulsion beams could squeal, they would have, so sharply did he stop. Nyah let out a grunt as she was flung forward, the headrest digging into her belly, and Pavel would have been thrown off if Pike hadn't released the stick and caught him.

The subordinate officers were frozen like a group of children caught with their collective hand in a cookie jar, but Admiral Christopher Pike just sat there and smiled.

"Are you all right, Bones?" Kirk asked, offering him a hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Not the first time I've been hit by a patient, either. But he's definitely the first one who brought reinforcements. What're you all doing?"

"Just going for a test drive. Your geniuses made some improvements on the jalopy for me. Where are the nearest stairs?"

"From here?" Kirk asked, still not sure why the ensign and the Orion nurse were riding on the admiral, but thinking that it looked like fun. "The auditorium, I guess. Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine, Jim. I've got my entourage and we're in good shape. Pavel, where's the auditorium again?"

"Deck Sewen, Section A. Zat way," he added, pointing down the corridor.

"Scotty, how much more weight do you think she can hold?"

"Depends on how much speed and altitude ye want, Christopher. Maybe a little more if ye don' mind settling."

"Well, let's try it out. Climb aboard. May as well make it a thorough test."

"Up here," Nyah said, shifting her feet to the platform between the wheels. Scotty stepped up behind her, set his feet on the anti-tippers, and put his arms around her, gripping the back of the chair by Pavel's arm. Pike took off again, gaining speed slowly as they leaned forward for balance and Pavel leaned back, then pressed for altitude to see what it would give them. To his great pleasure, they gained three feet and reached ten knots in the empty hallway. But he was too overloaded to corner fast, and Kirk and McCoy watched him slow to a crawl before disappearing down another corridor.

"I can't really ask, because he's an admiral and everything, but what the hell does he think he's doing?"

"Showing you what it was like, would be my guess," Bones said, rubbing his bruised knee.

"What what was like?"

"Commanding a ship with _you_ on board."

"Oh, yeah. Well, I guess I had that coming," Kirk shrugged and they continued on their way, still hearing the joyful laughter of the hoverchair gang echoing down the halls.


End file.
